In 1970, at just two years old…
I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Imagine a child learning to navigate needles, daily urine tests, and the crushing responsibility of survival—all before losing their first tooth. For 55 years now, diabetes has been my constant companion, demanding attention without a single day off. No holidays. No breaks. Just a relentless grind.
My mental health journey has been just as turbulent. The high blood sugars during the first decade not only paved the way for a relentless diabetic path but also brought on deep, pervasive depression and untreatable ADHD. Alongside these challenges, I also functioned with life itself. Each day felt like a battle fought without reprieve, with no holiday from the constant onslaught of physical and emotional pain.
2024
In April 2024, I hit rock bottom. I was hospitalised with
Suicidal Ideation
Severe Depressive Episode
Diabetes Burnout
ADHD
PTSD
Alcoholism
Substance abuse
My blood sugars were a mess—50% of the time in the ‘high’ zone, split equally between “high” and “very high.”
In those darkest moments, I faced those demons alone, without the 12-steps or any support group, as I had never known the safety net of a loving family or community during childhood.
Then came September 2024—a turning point I can hardly believe. I experienced a shift so profound it felt like a surge of MDMA. That lasted for two weeks, even though I hadn’t taken anything at all.
The doctors identified a severe chemical imbalance rooted in a dopamine deficiency. No wonder I had struggled with motivation, sex drive, concentration, and happiness. That period was also marked by bouts of “carthasism”—Catharsis waves of release, grief, tears of happiness and finally, clarity.
(Let me be clear: catharsis is a gift, but the path to it? It’s a storm I wouldn’t wish on anyone.)
Who I Am Today
Today, I am brand new. My blood sugars? Steady, as if I am not diabetic. Even my retinopathy has reversed—no medical intervention, just relentless self-care. The depression, the cravings, the voice that told me I wasn’t enough? Quiet now.
I’m not “healed.” Healing is a verb, not a destination. For the first time though, I feel free. Free to live without numbing the pain. Free to see my first 54 years as someone else’s story—a story I survived.
Why I’m Here
I’m sharing this not because I have all the answers, but because I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. To think no one understands. To believe you’re too broken to fix.
You’re not.
This Substack is a space for raw, unfiltered stories of resilience. For practical hope. For anyone tired of fighting their battles in the dark. Together, we’ll talk about mental health, addiction, chronic illness, and the messy, nonlinear path to growth.
If my journey resonates with you, even a little—welcome. Let’s walk this road together.
Because the light? It’s closer than you think.
With gratitude,
Jay
P.S. If you’re in the thick of your storm right now: Breathe. Stay. The world needs your story, too.
You're really speaking my language here. Thanks for writing this. I was moved and the metaphor of the storm is , well, yeah, what I'm all about here. I'm glad you got through those worst parts and let's support each other!
This is a fantastic journey! My daughter has type 1 as well and though I can't truly understand, I feel for you. Do you have a special diet other than the one doctors provide us? I'm reading a wonderful book called The Diabetes Solution by Dr. Richard K. Bernstein and I believe he is bringing so much to the table😉 Pun intended.
Keep on going, you're on the right path 🚀